


Ozymandias

by darthpumpkinspice



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Arrogance, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, God Complex, M/M, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 15:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpumpkinspice/pseuds/darthpumpkinspice
Summary: He's a conqueror, destined for greatness. And his ambitions won't be sated until it's him on the Emperor's golden throne.





	Ozymandias

**Author's Note:**

> yeaa uh terrible people doing terrible things to each other! hope you enjoy? i guess??? idk imma just miss Jason Isaacs next season!

Lorca believes in destiny.  

It was destiny, after all, that led him to be born into a wealthy human family- superior stock from a superior species. He’s a conqueror, a warlord- it’s in his blood, predestined by his genetic code. It was the descendants of Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan that spread their seed beyond the reach of Earth into the cold, alien darkness of space and _dominated_ it, bent it to their will. It was the long distant children of Caesar and Augustus and Cyrus who united the disparate countries of Earth into a mighty fist, and pounded back into the void until all other species either submitted or were crushed. And _that_ is his birthright.

Lorca takes great pride in the destiny he has inherited, passed down generations by the blood of great men flowing through his veins. He will be greater than all of them, he will plant a Terran flag on every planet in the galaxy, and he will build glittering monuments that will stretch between the star-ways.

It is his destiny.

And one day, Destiny comes to him in the form of a blood-thirsty captain, alien gristle staining Her armor, and offers out Her hand.

And he gladly takes it, and She picks him up and carries him with Her to greatness. And when she finally sits upon that coveted golden throne, she smiles and bids him to stand at her side. Not too close, mind you- the Emperor has always kept herself a knife-strike’s distance from her underlings. And it does chaff his pride to know that he is her underling, but for a long while he is sated with being the second most powerful man in the galaxy. It is good to be captain- broken enemies trip over themselves for the privilege of bowing first, and supplicants fight for the privilege of existing in his shadow. Women and men throw themselves at him without even being asked, just to touch the man who possesses the ear of the Emperor. He sleeps next to them with one eye open, of course, a phaser under his pillow- but the thrill of danger is its own form of pleasure.   

It is almost unlimited power at his disposal. _Almost_. And one day he tires of being second best, second in command, second from the throne. The throne should be _his_ , he has a glorious destiny and no truly great man was content to merely have the _ear_ of the King.

Perhaps his King sees the spark of ambition in his eyes. That night she orders him to her bedchambers, and she makes him strip and lay down as she fucks herself on him. He closes his eyes and pretends it’s another woman’s heat around his cock, and he hears her laugh at him as he does.

“I am your god,” she pants at one point, her breath sour and hot. “I am your lord, your emperor, your king. You will worship me and bask in the reflection of my glory, or defy me and be ground down into nothing.”

He slips out after, thoroughly disgusted by the smell of her lingering on his body, and his on hers. He thinks she takes this gesture as submission, as humility. She thinks she has dominated him, showed him his place under her might. She thinks she has broken his spirit, conquered his soul with her cunt. But she may have conquered the Betazoids, and the Klingons, and a dozen other worlds and civilizations, but Lorca _has_ no soul for her to conquer. He is made of stone and steel, and if he had anything as soft or vulnerable as a _soul_ he would cut it out himself.

Her violation only hardens his heart and sharpens his hatred for her. He will take everything from her, strip her of everything she loves and holds dear.

And she does have something she loves most of all: a daughter, brilliant, ruthless, frightening. The jewel of the Emperor’s court. She’s an adult now, well on her way to making the captaincy. Lorca vaguely remembers her from her childhood; he hadn’t thought much of her then. An obnoxious brat, easily banished from memory.

Michael bends herself to him, gravitates to his orbit in exchange for only the smallest of affections. She gives herself to him so willingly he’s disappointed- it’s difficult to feel like fucking the Emperor’s ward is an act of revenge when she’s screaming out his name in wanton pleasure. But she grows to _love_ him, and he comes to realize she is a most strategically placed ally.

They betray her mother, and then her mother betrays them, and the precision of human treachery is remarkable- Lorca suspects he could set his watch to it, were he so inclined.

He survives, of course. Destiny has bigger plans for him then dying alone in the vacuum of space. Destiny takes him to another universe, a reality where the light is softer and instead of obsidian daggers at hips, there are communicators.

Lorca knows this world is his crucible, and he makes the most of it. He is a warlord, after all, and he takes a crew of polite scientists and molds them into fierce warriors. He wins battle after battle, until even the moralistic Federation gladly ignores his tactics for the results. He even takes Michael for his own again, and this one is _perfect_ , crueler and cleverer and more resilient then her doppelgänger. He sees the hatred that burns through her like a fever, and it has purified her in a way that his Michael was never pure, and he daydreams about someday unleashing that hate upon the Emperor. Michael is the most rare and beautiful animal he has ever encountered, and he vows not to lose this one like he did the other one.

And Lorca takes a man too, the soldier he rescued who does not even need to be _asked_ to worship him. Tyler falls to his knees before Lorca and begs for the privilege of pleasing him, and he sucks on Lorca’s cock with an almost religious devotion.    

And Lorca knows he deserves all this, and more. And soon he will go back to the real world and behead the Emperor, and baptize his followers in her blood. And perhaps he will return to conqueror this universe as well, for the thought of having just _one_ reality to himself doesn’t feel right. For he is as Ozymandias, king of kings, and Destiny has deemed it so. And Lorca knows he will only be sated when all of existence bows before him and proclaims him their Emperor.


End file.
